


This Is Not The End For Us

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Lots of drama, M/M, Minor Character Death, Physical Abuse, Songfic, The omc dies before the fic happens don't worry, college au probably, we don't really know about him so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28875501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When it came down to it, it was Frank's fault. When it came to to facts, actually, it was always his fault. Every hellish thing that happened in his life was his fault. And now Gerard was gone from his life, it was his fault too.Joyriding songfic
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	This Is Not The End For Us

**Author's Note:**

> This went from 800 to 1 800 words guys, I don't know how the hell it happened. Please bear with me if it isn't realistic, okay?
> 
> Details at the end

Frank laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling like it was gonna wrap him up in it’s sheet of whiteness and choke him. He wanted to punch someone, something, anything, to make a hole in the wall, to thrash his room upside down and break every piece of furniture in it. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Doing that meant becoming like him. Frank would never lower himself to such a place. 

Instead, the angrily wiped his eyes and picked up the guitar he’d managed to hide in his closet. His parents wouldn’t be back for at least an hour, he still had time to play it all out, all the anger and the fear and the despair, because he wanted to be there, he never wanted this to happen, wanted to be there with Gerard drying his tears and easing his pain and telling him that it wasn’t the end, explain and give hope. And yet here he was, distorted broken melodies spilling into the air as a black hole formed in his chest, the past images flashing behind his eyes somehow just as painful and the recent ones, snippets of Jack and Gerard overlapping. A bloody figure laying down on the ground, tears welling up in hazel eyes, screams and whispers. That was why Frank refused to believe in God anymore. If He even existed, He wouldn’t have made Frank’s life a living hell in the purest way of the word. 

Finally, he put down his guitar and stored her away, purposefully ignoring his phone that would be all but blowing up with messages. Most of them from Mikey, he was sure. Death threats, probably. He dragged himself out of the house, then froze. What the hell was he doing? On impulse, he turned around, went for the brick wall and punched it, as hard as he could. His ribs still hurt from turning too fast, the skin on his knuckles split and the impact reverberated throughout his entire arm to his chest, making his ribs hurt even more. It was just a dull ache but still, dull aches were the worst. They crept up when you thought they were gone, sticking around like gum under a shoe. Not even caring to take care of the broken skin, he walked back into the house, sucking the small amount of blood that had appeared off his hand. 

Now he had one day before having to go to college and get his ass beaten to a pulp by Mikey.

Bits and pieces came back to Frank as he sat on his bed, still looking the opposite direction from his phone. All he wanted to do was curl up and cry, but he wouldn’t. Instead he picked up his notebook, the one no one knew about, the one in which he poured his heart, and wrote. Small phrases, not enough to make a song but too much to ignore. To his great surprise despite knowing it would happen, the first thing he put down was Gerard’s mumbled ”Yeah, it’s cool, I’ll be okay.”

Eventually, his parents came back, being unconventionally kind, even letting him go back to his room mid-dinner without prying. Frank just felt like he couldn’t eat anything, like his stomach had been swallowed in the growing black hole inside him. 

He fell into a tormented sleep, dreading the next day like he had never before. He dragged his feet the whole morning, keeping his head how and his hood up, only able to eat an orange, knowing that he wouldn’t hold anything else. 

At school, he felt like the whole world was watching him. He pulled his hood up, removing it for a short time and only when the supervisor told him to. 

The challenge of going through the day unknown didn’t go so well. Pete glared at him every time they passed each other in the hallways. Brendon too, and so did Ryan. Ray was sitting next to him in the first period, trying to look over Frank’s shoulder at the notebook he had brought and continued fleshing out the song in. “I can play bass, y’know,” he’d said, something Frank hadn’t quite understood. He didn’t see Mikey until lunch, which was an accomplishment in itself. Peace was nice while it lasted. 

What really wasn’t nice was when Mikey slammed him against the bathroom wall and landed a fist on Frank’s jaw. That fucker could punch. Frank felt the anger coiling in his guts, screaming at him to fight back, to at least protect himself from the next incoming blow. But his mind, his stupid weak mind who’d been conditionned not to move and to just take it, it forced him to stay still, terror in his head but not in his eyes. 

“Why the fuck did you do that, you asshole!” Mikey yelled as he punched Frank again, his voice cracking and yes, okay, Frank deserved it, he deserved all of it. But it wasn’t less painful to see your friend turn on you like that. 

Mikey’s eyes were dark pits of hatred and anger and fright, pure and wild and terrifying. Frank could do nothing but close his eyes and turn his head the other way, waiting for the fist that would collide against his face. 

It didn’t come. Instead, it was Ray’s voice, calm but shaking. “Mikey, stop.”

Frank’s eyes snapped open and he took in the scene, Ray firmly holding Mikey’s forearm in the air, slowly pulling it down. He pried Mikey away from Frank and the shorter immediately sank to the ground, rolling himself in a tight ball, face buried in his arms to hide the tears already spilling from his eyes because he didn’t deserve this, but he did, and it was just too much. 

“You don't want to do this,” Ray said, warning clear in his voice. 

“Why shouldn’t I,” Mikey asked daringly, widening the hole in Frank’s chest this much bigger, “after what he did?”

"Look at him, Mikey,” Ray shot back. “Look at Frank, really look at him, and tell me he chose to do it. You know him. You know he would’ve fought back the moment you laid a hand on him if he didn’t think he deserved it.”

Frank looked up slowly, carefully, Mikey’s eyes fixated on him. He knew there were still tears in his eyes, on his cheeks and snapped his head down again, unable to stand it. He just wanted to be out of the fucking place. Out of there, away from the sharp glares and the pitying glances he was sure Ray gave him. 

There were rushed footsteps and the door slammed open, gently getting back into its place afterwards. 

“Thank you,” Frank mumbled. God, he sounded like a wreck. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Thank you.” His voice was already clearer. 

“Don’t think I didn’t want to tell him, Frank,” Ray replied, twisting the knife in the wound. “Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve helped! We could move you out, away from them!”

“No you can’t,” Frank practically growled, glaring up at Ray. “You can’t. I’ve tried and I failed. They found me again. They killed him and didn't look back.”

He bolted up and dashed past Ray, slamming into him to get to the door running away. How dare he! How dare Ray think he didn’t want to tell them, to run away and all that shit. Hatred burned as bright as ever, directed and the wrong person and Frank knew it. He didn’t care about how much of a mess he looked like at this point, he just wanted it to be over. He wanted the world to stop reminding him about Jack, about the lifeless, bloodied body that had lain at his feet. Accident, he could believe that, but they sure didn’t stop when he started screaming. 

He didn’t pay attention to his classes, just scribbled out in his notebook, partitions to go with the music. All of a sudden, Ray’s offer made much more sense. Patrick was way too gullible and must’ve eaten all the shit Pete gave him, but Andy was laid-back. Spencer might accept too, despite being friends with the royal couple of gossip. Yeah. That had to work. At least Frank was an actual music student, he could do the mixing alone and shit. He kind of didn’t want anyone else listen to him spilling his guts out. 

The day went by rather smoothly after that. He went back to his house, earned himself a couple of bruises from being home thirty minutes late, ate, wrote and went to bed. Then he woke up, looked at himself in the mirror to make sure he wouldn’t have any visible bruises he’d have to hide and went to school early, planning on doing some recording. He wanted to punch someone in the face, but then again that had been his constant state of mind for the last week as he realized what he would have to do and did it. 

Ray somehow predicted it and joined him on the recording, doing what Frank told him but never suggesting any changes. Frank was glad. It was his song, no one else's’. They got the two guitar parts done by the time their first class started. That’s how early they were. If Frank was lucky, it would be completed by the end of the week. Maybe. 

Mikey was still glaring in the hallways, but thankfully it wasn’t directed at Frank specifically, most likely to whoever made him do it. 

The song was finished by the end of the next week. It was remarkably well-made, especially for Frank’s standards. It didn’t sound like a shitty demo, or a demo altogether. He had made especially sure of that. Everything was well, until Frank found himself walking towards Mikey, the carefully labeled tape inside his pocket, lyrics neatly folded inside the wrapping. What was the point of writing a song about it if the lyrics couldn’t be understood? 

Fuck, what was he doing. 

Before he could stop himself, Frank grabbed Mikey’s arm, shoving the tape in his hand. “Give it to Gerard,” he muttered. “Please don’t listen to it.”

Then he was off, sprinting towards his house in the hopes of avoiding bruised ribs. This isn’t the end, he told himself. Not for them. Gerard would listen to the tape and maybe accept the apology. If not, Ray would tell him. Frank didn’t think he could handle Gerard’s reaction. 

He wasn’t even sure if he was allowed in the vicinity of the Way household. 

Only one more year. One year and he’d have enough money to get out, to find himself an apartment and start a new life. A better one, hopefully. To have Gerard in it was too much to ask. Right now, Frank could only hope, and try not to punch anything. Or anyone. 

And prepare himself for the sickly joyride the future had prepared for him.

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, Frank and Gerard were in a relationship but Frank realized it would go too far for him to be able to hide Gerard from his parents or to keep from Gerard that his parents were beating him. 
> 
> Jack is Frank's first and only boyfriend


End file.
